


Untitled

by tanagersaid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanagersaid/pseuds/tanagersaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam’s hair is swept up off his forehead, flattened slightly by the weather, and he’s wearing black jeans and a gray sweater, sleeves pushed up, forearms revealed. Zayn’s heart feels a little funny as he turns away and drops the tea bags into the mugs of water to steep, and he can feel heat all the way down his spine when Liam comes up behind him and says low into his ear, “You’re not very subtle.” (uni AU but actually just porn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

It’s almost three o'clock in the afternoon before Zayn finally gets the text he’s been waiting for— _im outside x_ —and by then he’s been done with class for four hours, drank two cups of tea, and read a good fifty pages of the Dostoevsky he’d been avoiding for weeks. He’s off his bed and out the door in two seconds, letting it slam shut behind him, and makes his way past the rows of dorm rooms in the corridor and down one of the side stairwells. He pushes open the door marked “Outside Access” and smiles at the boy waiting for him, standing on the stoop with his hood pulled up over his forehead to fend off the torrential rain. Liam smiles back and steps inside, pushing his hood off as he does and sending rivulets of water down his back. “Bloody nightmare out there,” he says with a bright grin on his face that suggests he really isn’t too bothered. “Hi,” he adds.

“Hi,” Zayn says, unable to contain a small, fond smile as he leads them back up the stairs. “I made you some tea. I drank most of it, but I’ll make you some more.”

They reach his room and Liam slips off his raincoat, hanging it neatly on one of the hooks by Zayn’s door. Zayn goes over to the counter to pour hot water into two fresh mugs and nearly scalds his hand when he lets himself get distracted watching Liam take off his shoes. Liam’s hair is swept up off his forehead, flattened slightly by the weather, and he’s wearing black jeans and a gray sweater, sleeves pushed up, forearms revealed. Zayn’s heart feels a little funny as he turns away and drops the tea bags into the mugs of water to steep, and he can feel heat all the way down his spine when Liam comes up behind him and says low into his ear, “You’re not very subtle.”

Zayn turns around to find that Liam's got him crowded back against the counter, smiling as his hands drop to rest on his waist like they’re slow dancing. Somehow it manages to charm him and turn him on at the same time.

“You look good,” Zayn says, not even bothering to deny it, and leans forward to kiss the sweet spot on Liam’s neck just beneath his ear. Then, quieter, “I missed you.” He’s being too solemn, and too honest, probably, but he doesn’t care. Liam brings out the reckless, unguarded sincerity in him.

Liam huffs out a laugh and slides his fingers through the back of Zayn’s hair, maneuvering him so that his face is tucked further into his neck. “We just saw each other Saturday night,” he reminds him. “You sat with me on Niall’s couch and wouldn’t stop touching my chin, remember?”

Zayn remembers. Niall had thrown his usual weekend-long party slash booze fest so naturally he’d gone and gotten drunk off his face, and the feeling of his fingertips against Liam’s stubble had suddenly become the most beautiful and fascinating thing in the world. Liam had been accommodating, letting Zayn lean heavily on his right arm and resolutely carrying on with his conversation while Zayn stared at the shape of his fingers against Liam’s skin and the absolutely mesmerizing way his mouth and jaw formed words.

“That is so embarrassing,” Zayn groans, his voice muffled against Liam’s shoulder. “Didn’t Niall end up having to kick us out?”

“He did,” Liam confirms, and sounds entirely too amused about it. “You started biting my neck and that’s about when we decided it was time for you to go home.”

“Ugh,” Zayn says forcefully, closing his eyes against the feeling of demoralizing shame that so often comes with recollecting the dumb shit you did while drunk. In particular he’s remembering his attempts to cajole Liam into coming back to his room with him even though his roommate was there, “sleeping off a hard week’s work of being an annoying twat” as Zayn recalls putting it, or going back to Liam’s even though Harry and Louis were sure to have claimed that particular spot already. Instead, Liam had patiently removed Zayn’s fingers from underneath his shirt and slipped his hand into Zayn’s as he walked him home.

(“He’s going out of town next weekend, you said, right?” Liam had asked him after they’d made their way across campus to Zayn’s dorm and Liam had unlocked the door to the building for him after Zayn dropped his keys twice. “Why don’t we. Uh.” He had cut himself off, letting his gaze fall from Zayn to the ground, and Zayn knew Liam's body language well enough to figure out exactly what that meant.

“Have a slumber party?” Zayn had suggested, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he was leering at Liam drunkenly but also not really caring. “A _sexy_ slumber party?”

“Shut up,” Liam had laughed, grabbing Zayn’s hand again as they started climbing the staircase to Zayn’s room on the third floor. “Did you want us to have some privacy or not?”

Zayn had felt his grip on Liam’s hand tighten almost unconsciously. “I want that very much,” he said as seriously as he could, and watched as Liam’s smile turned small and private and pleased. They made it to Zayn’s room without incident, and after Liam unlocked the door for him again he’d allowed Zayn pull him into an artless, unrestrained kiss and run his hands slowly up his sides until Liam broke away and said, his mouth pink and breathing heavy, “I’ll see you soon,” and quickly left the way they came.)

This is the first time they’ve been alone together since that Saturday night, and now, with Liam’s neck under his lips and his skin under his hands, all Zayn can think about is how the fuck he’d managed to wait so long.

Zayn detaches himself from the side of Liam’s throat and kisses him firmly on the mouth, catching Liam entirely off-guard. Liam makes a small noise and tightens his fingers on the back of Zayn’s head to pull him in closer, pressing their lips together solid and square-on. They open their mouths lazily and Liam brings his other hand up to scrape his fingers through Zayn’s hair, making Zayn shiver and start to walk them backward until Liam's knees hit the bed and they fall onto the mattress with a thump.

"I think you just elbowed me in the stomach," Liam says as Zayn looks down at him from where he’s propped himself up, hands planted on either side of Liam’s head.

"Terribly sorry," Zayn says gravely. "Maybe we should remove your shirt and check on it."

"Maybe we should do that," Liam replies, his fingertips tracing a hot trail down Zayn's back. "Maybe I should even let you kiss it better."

Zayn lets his arms drop so that they're pressed together again, legs slotted and noses almost touching. “Hello,” says Liam, grinning stupidly, and Zayn kisses him quick so Liam will stop looking at him like that and Zayn’s heart will stop thumping wildly against his ribcage, trying to remind him of all the sappy, horrible, deeply in love things he wants to say.

He pulls back and begins tugging at Liam’s sweater, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get his skin out in the light. Liam obligingly sits both of them up further so he can pull the shirt off over his head, dislodging Zayn’s knees so that if he moved forward just slightly he’d be straddling Liam’s hips full-on. Zayn takes in Liam’s flushed chest, the elegant way his body tapers in from his shoulders to his waist, the contrast in color where his skin disappears into the waistband of his jeans. He knows he’s staring again; he knows the look on his face must be aching and hungry, but this time Liam is staring right back. Zayn closes the distance between their hips, breath hitching at the sudden grinding pressure, deliberately places his hands on Liam’s bare shoulders, thumbs resting along the indents of his collarbones, and leans forward to kiss him again, all tongue and the slight sting of teeth. Liam’s hands are in his hair, nails scritching over the back of his neck and raising goosebumps on his skin, and Zayn is suddenly so hard he can’t think anymore, he can’t comprehend why anyone’s pants are still on. He reaches blindly for Liam’s fly before Liam stops him, saying hoarsely, “You first,” and moves forward to pull Zayn’s t-shirt up and over his head. He brings his mouth down on Zayn’s naked throat like a hammer, latching on to suck a soft bruise because he knows how completely it makes Zayn fall apart, and Zayn bares his neck for Liam while he gasps out, “Not fair,” but they both know he really doesn’t mean it.

When Liam pulls away, Zayn unthinkingly brings a thumb up to run over shiny swell of his bottom lip. The blooming mark on his neck prickles with heat, pulled into life by Liam’s mouth, and when Liam smiles at him from under his thumb he thinks, simply, _Okay_.

Then Liam’s fumbling open Zayn's jeans and pants, and god, Liam has the most gorgeous hands, beautiful steady fine-boned hands that are never more perfect than when they’re touching his cock, and Zayn shoves his own clothes the rest of the way off and lurches forward when Liam tightens his fist and twists on the upstroke and _god, good sweet god_ —it feels like all the oxygen in the room is caught in his throat but Liam doesn’t slow down, looks at him with wide, reverent eyes, and that’s it, that’s it—

When Zayn comes it feels like the end of the world, like a white hot rocket shooting straight through his body, like Liam’s wrecked him with his lovely filthy hands, and he checks out completely for a few seconds, has to focus on gathering air and surrendering it from his lungs until he remembers how to do it unconsciously again. Liam’s wrists are sticky as he gathers Zayn close, hand cradling the base of his skull, and they stay wrapped around each other until Zayn finally stirs, pushes Liam onto his back and says unsteadily, “Your turn, then.”

He starts by trailing his mouth slowly southward down Liam’s body, kissing his jaw and his neck and his ribs and his stomach and then making his way back up again. Liam’s breathing hiccups when Zayn catches hold of a nipple and he chokes out something like, “Goddamn tease,” which gets Zayn’s attention long enough for him to glance up and give him his most disarming smile. Now that he’s come all he wants to do is draw this out, make Liam writhe and gasp his name until he’s absolutely hysterical, because Zayn’s a selfish bastard like that.

Zayn kisses Liam on the mouth and palms him through the layers of fabric over his cock, causing Liam to whimper around Zayn’s tongue and arch up into Zayn’s body. Zayn sits back to finally peel off Liam’s trousers and pants, and he wonders fleetingly if he’ll ever get used to seeing Liam naked, if he’ll ever stop feeling overwhelmed and stupid at the sight of him, and almost as soon as he’s had the thought he knows the answer.

Liam’s too worked up to let him look for as long as he wants to, though, and impatiently pulls him back down for another searing kiss, skin on fevered skin. Liam’s stiff bare cock rubs against Zayn’s stomach and Zayn reaches down to grasp it, catching Liam’s moan in the back of his throat, and decides to take pity. He breaks the kiss and moves down Liam’s body to take his cock into his mouth, thick and hot and sweet on his tongue. Liam makes a broken sound as Zayn’s mouth works around him, done teasing, ready to see Liam fall all the way apart. Zayn sucks down as much of him as he can, gripping his cock at the base and relaxing his throat, and that’s all it really takes before Liam’s spine is bowing and he’s saying Zayn’s name like a dirty swear word and he’s coming into Zayn’s open mouth.

“God,” is what Liam says after, the inside of his elbow brought up over his face to cover his eyes. Zayn crawls up over him and Liam lets his arm slip back so he can look at him, smiling groggily in greeting. “Well done,” he adds, and Zayn laughs and collapses onto the bed next to him, pressed along Liam’s side. Liam turns to kiss him, fitting his fingers alongside his jaw, both of them boneless and worn out and falling asleep even though it’s not even four o’clock, and Liam says, “I think our tea’s gotten cold.”

 

(Zayn remembers the first few months after they met, introduced to each other by Louis, and how even the fact that Liam had a serious girlfriend wasn’t able to stop Zayn from developing the kind of desperate, heartbreaking, incurable crush on him that roared in his chest like a starving animal whenever Liam was near and ticked slowly and painfully away inside him whenever he wasn’t. Zayn remembers the time he ran into the two of them at the little underground cafe on campus, sitting at a cozy table in the corner with their coffees, sharing an eclair. Liam had cheerfully waved him over and introduced them to each other, and she had invited him to join them with a polite smile, but Zayn had made his excuses and ducked outside to have an agitated cigarette and try not to think about Liam’s long fingers smudged with chocolate icing or the way Liam looked at her like she was candlelight.

Zayn remembers that when Liam's relationship abruptly fell apart Zayn had been in love for better than five months, and the first time Zayn saw Liam cry was the first time that he ever felt truly, senselessly dangerous, like he would do anything if Liam asked; he would set something on fire, he would break somebody’s bones. Zayn had walked into Liam’s room that night and hugged him like they were both drowning, and they sat together on the bed with Liam small and crushed into Zayn’s body, using Zayn’s neck and Zayn’s arms as his place of mourning.

Zayn remembers sitting on that same bed a month later, his heart in his throat and his hands in fists on his legs as Liam kissed him, unexpected and uncertain and yet not, somehow, and the precise noises he’d made when Zayn kissed him back, took off his clothes and spread him out on the sheets and showed him in no uncertain terms exactly how he felt about him.)


End file.
